


ain't no motive for this crime

by nikkiRA



Series: Kinkmeme Fills [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dimitri's Huge Royal Cock, Fire Emblem Kink Meme, M/M, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, POV Outsider, the kind of embarrassing sex you can only have when you're completely in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:00:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24202495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikkiRA/pseuds/nikkiRA
Summary: tfw you're an assassin sent to kill the king but he's having incredibly loud incredibly sappy sex with his duke
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Series: Kinkmeme Fills [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1767034
Comments: 52
Kudos: 308
Collections: FE3H Kink Meme





	ain't no motive for this crime

**Author's Note:**

> this is another fill for a prompt over at the [kinkmeme](https://3houseskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/476.html?thread=346588) for an op who has an incredibly large, sexy brain  
> title from jenny is a friend of mine by the killers

The worst part of any assassination was the infiltration, even more so when the walls were too high to be safely scaled. It involved a lot more work, a lot more effort. It involved subterfuge and learning schedules, outfits that never fit right, so much time and energy spent; hours and hours and hours of preparation that culminated in one quick swing of his blade. Dain did not enjoy this work, whether it be hiding in shadows or scaling walls or turning into a simpering stable boy in an attempt to worm his way into the household. Dain was an assassin for one reason -- the adrenaline of a successful kill. The feeling of his blade slicing through skin like butter. Human life could be ended so easily. 

When the target was a king, infiltration was far worse. Dain did not often target high seated officials for this exact reason, and the king of the new united Fodlan was perhaps as high seated as you could get. But Dain did not pray to Sothis, or Seiros, or Cihol or Cethleann or any other deity humans latched onto; Dain’s only god was money, and someone out there with quite a lot of it wanted King Dimitri dead. 

Dain had no strong feelings about Dimitri Blaiddyd. He’s not surprised that someone wanted him dead, as there were always people who wanted kings dead. He had heard rumours, of course, often conflicting each other. King Dimitri was a monster who murdered mercilessly and took joy only in killing; King Dimitri was a saint who ruled justly and cared more deeply for his people than any other king in history. The truth, as it always is, is somewhere in the middle. Dain has no plans to find out what it is. His only plan is to slit King Dimitri’s throat and collect his payment. 

After so much planning he finally finds himself in the King’s bedchamber, cloaked in shadow and dagger in hand. The King had retired a few hours ago, but he had been accompanied by Duke Fraldarius at the time, likely to discuss some boring political drivel. Dain had waited patiently, something he excelled at. Honestly, being an assassin consisted mostly of waiting around, so he remained hidden in the shadows, letting the hours pass him by. He knew little of Duke Fraldarius, other than he was formidable with a sword; Dain had no desire to face them head on, as he was fully aware that he would lose. One lone assassin against the Tempest King and the Shield of Faerghus was not a fight he was interested in. 

When enough time has passed he slowly and carefully leaves his hiding spot. The King should be asleep now -- even though Dain had not heard Duke Fraldarius leave, it was far too late for him to still be with the King, and even if it was unlikely it  _ was  _ possible that Dain had simply not noticed him take his leave. The Duke was like a cat, after all, deadly and silent on his feet. Dain almost wished that someone would hire a hit on him, so that Dain could go up against him and best him. To win against Felix Fraldarius would be something special.

But to win against the King of Fodlan, with his brute strength and his Crest, would also be something special. So with that thought in his head, he creeps into the bedchamber --

And nearly stops in his tracks. He has just enough wherewithal to hide himself behind a chair large enough for a Blaiddyd before he is spotted, standing in the middle of the King’s room and gaping like a fool as he watches Duke Felix Fraldarius get utterly, completely, vigorously  _ fucked.  _

It is truly like nothing he has ever seen. He takes a breath and attempts to regroup himself from his hiding spot behind the chair, settling his nerves. He very carefully peeks around the chair, grateful that the King and the Duke have fully committed to the mood lighting and have only one candle lit. 

From the looks of it, Duke Fraldarius has his hand in his mouth, teeth clamped down and eyes screwed shut as the King fucks him, legs hoisted up on Dimitri’s shoulders. Dain can’t quite force himself to look away as he watches the King pound into his right hand man with such strength and ferocity that Dain can’t help the desire to cross his legs closed. Just as he has the thought that there is no possible way that Felix Fraldarius could possibly be enjoying himself, he watches the King pull the hand away from his mouth. 

“I want to hear you, Felix,” he says, voice low and  _ commanding.  _ “I want you to be loud. I want all of Fhirdiad to know that you are here beneath me. I want them to know that you are  _ mine.” _

“Dimitri,” Fraldarius bites out. His voice is hoarse, as if he had been yelling for a while, although with a horrible feeling in his stomach Dain realizes what he’s most likely  _ actually  _ hoarse from. “Fuck, fuck, Dimitri --”

“Tell me how it feels, my love,” Dimitri says, angling the Duke’s hips up, and he lets out a strangled moan as the King continues to drive into him. Fraldarius continues to gasp like a fish out of water. 

“Good, Dima, it’s good, it’s  _ good,”  _ he slurs out, hands gripping the sheets. “You feel so  _ good,  _ fuck me,  _ please,  _ harder, I need --”

_ Harder?  _ Was he insane? Surely there is no harder fucking than this. Surely no one in the history of mankind has ever been fucked with this intensity. The King angles them once again and Dain fears that he might quite literally bend the Duke in half; he is a small man compared to the King (although most men were; Dain was well aware of Dimitri Blaiddyd’s immense size). 

“You are perfect, my Felix,” the King says, softness in his words that is at odds with the absolutely vicious way he is pounding into the man beneath him. “You are so wonderful, so perfect, so good for me --”

Dain nearly audibly groans in frustration and, to be frank, disgust, and is grateful that the Duke, at that moment, lets out a loud groan that is definitely  _ not  _ born out of frustration to mask the small snort that Dain lets out. Dain did not care who the King fucked, truly, but the simpering words of love and affection that he continues to spill are a little too much to bear.  _ Beloved, my heart, Felix my love, my light, oh Felix, sweetheart, darling, beloved, beloved.  _ Dain has half a mind to just get up and walk out, consequences be damned. 

But he did not spend so many long weeks planning for this only to be thrown off by some overly sappy sex. The problem is that there is really no other option but to wait. He could likely walk right up to the bed and push his dagger through the King’s neck without either of them noticing, so engrossed with each other as they were, but even if he managed to escape before Felix Fraldarius was able to push the King’s giant body off of him, his shout would alert the guards and would make escape far too difficult. No, the only option he had was to wait it out and hope that the Duke was not planning on spending the night with the King. He had no qualms about slitting another throat while he was here, but another body would only complicate things more while increasing the chance that something would go wrong. 

The  _ least  _ he could do would be to look away from the scene in front of him, but even when he does the noises always draw him back in. It does feel like a gross invasion of privacy, which is odd considering Dain is planning on  _ killing  _ at least one of these people, but no matter how many times he turns his head, something always makes him look once more. 

He turns back just in time to see the Duke flip onto his stomach, but when the King pulls out to turn him over --

Dain truly almost yells as he watches the King of Fodlan push the  _ biggest fucking cock  _ he had ever seen back into Duke Fraldarius’s stretched out hole. Sothis’  _ tits,  _ how did Felix Fraldarius walk? How was he  _ alive?  _ Dain’s ass seems to clench just at the  _ sight  _ of it, and now he truly understands why the Duke sounds so hoarse, if he had decided to pleasure his King with his mouth before he had his ass absolutely fucking destroyed. If Dain had to guess, he'd place the end of the King’s cock somewhere around the back of Felix Fraldarius' throat. That thing  _ had  _ to be displacing major organs. 

The King grabs Fraldarius by his pony-tail, wrenching his head up as he fucks him from behind. Dain watches the graceful arch of the Duke’s back as unfiltered nonsense spills from his lips, and Dain watches where the King is gripping his hip; he can see the shadows of bruises that line up near perfectly with Dimitri’s large hand, a sign that this is nowhere near the first time they have been in this position. He watches Dimitri pull almost completely out before slamming back in, the slap of skin on skin so loud that the entire palace  _ must  _ know what is going on, must know that the Shield of Faerghus is getting split open on their King’s monster fucking dick. How long has this been going on? Is it the best kept secret in Fhirdiad, or the worst?

Dimitri has not ceased talking, a steady stream of both lovey dovey bullshit that makes Dain want to be sick ( _ you’re so perfect, darling, so good, so tight around me, Felix, you’re perfect, I love you, so good, that’s it my love)  _ and dirty talk said in such a low commanding voice that Dain is forced to describe it as  _ sexy  _ ( _ come on, you can be louder for me, let them hear, let them know how desperate and needy you are for my cock, let them hear how you are reduced to a common whore, you take my cock so good, Felix, let them hear, I want them to know, I want everyone to know that you’re mine).  _ Dain can’t decide if he is disgusted or horny, but he knows with extreme certainty that no money in the world is worth  _ this.  _

He eyes the door. He’s sure the King has a stamina as impressive as his cock (seriously, he can’t stop thinking about it), but he’s not sure how long they had been going before Dain had crept into the room. If he can make his escape before they’re finished, he should be in the clear. 

“Dimitri,” Fraldarius says, and it’s less of a word and more of a sob. “I… I need --”

“I know, sweetheart,” Dimitri says, and he hauls the Duke up by his hair so they are back to chest, the King continuing the incessant pounding of his hips as Fraldarius leans his head back against his shoulder, drool escaping from the corner of his mouth. His cock (normal sized, thankfully, Dain doesn’t think he can handle another cock related shock) is hard against his stomach, but when he moves to touch himself the King moves his hand away. 

“Want you to come on my cock,” he says into the Duke’s ear, but his voice, much to Dain’s continued horror, travels easily across the room. “Can you do that for me, Felix? Can you come just from getting fucked?”

Sweet Holy Seiros, did everyone sound this goddamn embarrassing when they were having sex? Dain can't decide if the sappyness or the dirty talk is worse; he tries to imagine speaking to one of his lovers like this but he cannot imagine ever physically saying the words  _ want you to come on my cock  _ without combusting from sheer mortification. But then again, he wasn't the King of Fodlan. Maybe you needed a certain rank to be able to pull off saying shit like that. 

Regardless, Duke Fraldarius clearly has no issue with the words spilling from his King's mouth, nor, apparently, with the command. Dimitri has one large hand spread out on his chest, and he reaches up to grab it, entwining their fingers. 

"Tell me you're mine," Dimitri says. "Felix, tell me --" 

"You know I am," Duke Fraldarius gasps out. "Always, always have been, always yours, Dimitri --" and then he comes, cock spurting onto the bedsheets. Dain feels intensely relieved that he had not gone undercover as a launderer. 

Dimitri buries his face in the Duke’s neck, but not before Dain hears him say, "And I am yours." Then his hips stutter, and his breathing changes, and Dain realizes that he absolutely does not want to see what the King of Fodlan's orgasm face looks like. 

This was probably as good a time as ever to hightail it the fuck out of there. He exits out the window, using a few perilous footholds to descend to the next room, but he does not fully stop to think or even  _ breathe  _ until he is well clear of the palace; then he stops and promptly collapses against a wall in the street. 

He cannot do this. He cannot ever see the King again. How is he supposed to kill him when all he can see is the world's hugest cock disappearing into a man who had not seemed at all equipped to take it (although to Felix Fraldarius’ credit he hadn't seemed to have any complaints)? If he doesn't complete the kill, whoever hired him will be out for his blood, but Dain didn't fear anyone who outsourced their dirty work. 

Perhaps he should settle down, find a wife and start a family -- although frankly Dain isn't sure if he will ever be able to have sex again without hearing the words  _ let them know how desperate and needy you are for my cock.  _ Perhaps he will be cursed to wander the lands, forever haunted by Dimitri Blaiddyd’s monster cock. 

He looks down at his pants, having half a mind to unlace them and look at his own… package, but he shakes his head. He needs to get out of Fhirdiad. He needs to get away from the stench of sex and sweat and the way Duke Fraldarius had whined and -- 

He sets out. He doesn't know where he'll go, other than  _ away.  _ He wishes the King and his lover the best and sincerely, sincerely hopes that he never has to see either of them again. 

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me about these two embarrassing imbeciles on twitter @felixfraldaddy


End file.
